


Live Action Pocahontas script LEAKED

by TheRealRoyHarper



Category: Disney - All Media Types, Disney Princesses, Pocahontas (1995)
Genre: American History, F/F, F/M, Gay, Gen, Lesbian Character, M/M, Multi, Native American Character(s), Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-03-17 14:03:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13660500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRealRoyHarper/pseuds/TheRealRoyHarper
Summary: Pocahontas is shocked to learn her father has arranged for her to marry Kocoum, but who else does she have in mind?





	1. Live Action Pocahontas script LEAKED

Pocahontas was excited to meet her girlfriend Nakoma for some afternoon delight, when all the sudden, her father decided to make her marry Kocoum!

                “But, Chief Daddy!” Pocahontas pleaded, “I don’t want to marry Kocoum!”

                “Pocahontas, “ Chief Powhatan reasoned, “I don’t give a fuck.”

                “Daddy, shouldn’t I marry someone I love?”

                “Why? Your mom didn’t love me when we got married.”

                “WHAT?” Pocahontas’ mom was dead. Pocahontas was pretty fucked up from it still; she was only eighteen years old, barely an adult, but still legal. ;)

                “Yeah, Pocahontas, it was an arranged marriage, just like you and Kocoum. I know you like Nakoma, but you have to face the facts. Kocoum is a ten and Nakoma is like a seven, eight if I’m being generous.”

                “But, Daddy, I’m gay! I don’t even like men. They’re so… serious!”

                “So your relationship with Nakoma isn’t serious? Good!”

                “That’s not what I—“

                “Not another word, Pocahontas. My decision is final. You will marry Kocoum and have at least 3 children. One of them is bound to make it past 2 years of age. (You were our second try.) Then you can kill Kokoum in his sleep and raise your child with your lesbian friend. How does that sound?”

                “Chief Daddy, listen to me. I don’t care how handsome you think Kocoum is; I don’t care that you want me to have children, and a family, and carry on the family bloodline, and- and—“

                “Steady, Pocahontas,” Powhatan interrupted, “Be like the river.”

                “The river?”

                Chief Powhatan lead Pocahontas outside the tent toward the river, singing:

_“As the river cuts his path,_

_Though the river's proud and strong,_

_He will choose the smoothest course,_

_That's why rivers live so long._

_They're steady,_

_As the steady beating drum.”_ (copyright Disney or whatever, IDGAF, it’s not like I’m making money off this)

Chief Powhatan then left Pocahontas to ponder his words, but Pocahontas was not impressed. “Some solo,” she decreed as she strolled toward a nearby canoe. “Steady like the river. Puff!” She cried mockingly. “How can I be steady like the river?” Two beavers sprang out of the water playfully. “The river’s not steady at all!” Pocahontas got into the canoe and began paddling down the current.

_“What I love most about rivers is,_

_You can't step in the same river twice._

_The water's always changing, always flowing._

_But people, I guess, can't live like that,_

_We all must pay a price._

_To be safe, we lose our chance of ever knowing,_

_What's around the riverbend;_

_Waiting just around the riverbend._

_I look once more,_

_Just around the riverbend,_

_Beyond the shore,_

_Where the gulls fly free._

_Don't know what for._

_What I dream the day might send,_

_Just around the riverbend,_

_For me._

_Coming for me._

_I feel it there beyond those trees,_

_Or right behind these waterfalls._

_Can I ignore that sound of distant drumming,_

_For a handsome sturdy husband,_

_Who builds handsome sturdy walls,_

_And never dreams that something might be coming,_

_Just around the riverbend,_

_Just around the riverbend?_

_I look once more,_

_Just around the riverbend,_

_Beyond the shore,_

_Somewhere past the sea._

_Don't know what for._

_Why do all my dreams extend,_

_Just around the riverbend?_

_Just around the riverbend._

_Should I choose the smoothest course,_

_Steady as the beating drum?_

_Should I marry Kocoum?_

_Is all my dreaming at an end?_

_Or do you still wait for me, Dream Giver,_

_Just around the riverbend?”_ (copyright Mr. Mickey Mouse, Inc.)

Pocahontas had been rowing down the river, scaling waterfalls, doing flips, and plowing over manatees without a single regard for the environment for almost an hour before she reached her destination; a weeping willow draped over the edge of a calm creek deep in the forest.

“Grandmother Willow!” Pocahontas shouted at seemingly no one.

There was no reply.

“Grandmother Willow! I need to tell you about my dream!”

Still, there was no answer.

Pocahontas reached into her, er, pocket, and pulled out a medium-sized vape. She poured a few drops of cannabis essential oils in and puffed it several times. The vapor traveled from her lungs up into the draping leaves of the tree as she sat beside the base of the trunk and began to whisper.

“Que que na-to-ra,” Pocohontas muttered. “Que que na-to-ra.”

There was still no answer.

“Oh, shit!” Pocahontas exclaimed before reaching back into her pocket and pulling out a hand-crafted wooden fidget spinner. As she span it around, she repeated the chant several times. Suddenly, the branches of the willow began to mimic the motions of the fidget spinner and the trunk of the tree began to swirl before Pocahontas’ eyes. “I’m so high…” Pocahontas observed.

_“Que que na-to-ra,_

_You will understand.”_

The tree had seemed to be singing back to Pocahontas the same chanting sounds. “Hey, that’s my line, bitch!” Pocahontas exclaimed aggressively. “That’s copyrighted material, you can’t just pass that off as your own version of my original shit!”

                “It’s not like I’m making money off it,” The tree reasoned with her.

                “I don’t give a fuck,” Pocahontas retorted. “I’ll see you in court. Hope you can afford the lawsuit, you fucking tree.”

                “What do you want Pocahontas?” the tree sighed.

                “Oh, I need to tell you about my dream last night.”

                “Ohhh, tell me all about it!”

                “So I’m hanging out in my tent; I’ve got some candles lit; I’m feeling good, I’ve had eight glasses of wine;”

                “Gotcha.”

                “And down in the street I hear these two beautiful girls playing. They’re weaving or doing flips or something, and one of them looks up at me and has the most beautiful face I’ve ever seen; Shawnee”

                “Beautiful.”

                “And you know how I like a little Shawnee. You remember my girlfriend Nakoma?”

                “Very well.”

                “The point is I say, ‘Woohoo, girls!’ And they sort of look. The one who isn’t Shawnee, is Cherokee.”

                “Th- Th- You don’t have t- This could be a colorblind dream.”

                “I want to fill it with color.”

                “Yeah, but I’m just saying, It’s like, there’s no racial diversity in the Appalachians right now—“

                “And in America; no rac _ism_ problems.”

                “I agree.”

                “Well this story isn’t racist; it’s diverse. If everyone in it was Shawnee, then it would be racist, Grandmother Willow.”

                There was a pause. Then Grandmother Willow reluctantly admitted, “You know what, you’re right. Go ahead.”

                “So the girls come up to my tent and I’m wearing a robe. I’m _only_ wearing a robe. And I say, ‘Why don’t you come into my sleeping area and watch me do a war cry?’ And they say, ‘Where’s the bed?’ And I say, ‘The bed is on the floor right here,’ And they say, ‘Can we sit on the bed?’ And I say, ‘Sure, but these are authentic tribal linen,’ And they say, ‘But they’re not even soft!’ And I say, ‘Sometimes… things that are reserved for the chief’s family… are worse.’

                “Wow.”

                “So anyway we spun an arrow and it kept spinning around and around and around and around until suddenly, it stopped.”

                “Did you do the war cry?”

                “I did an early work by the master…”

                Both in unison: “Squanto.”

                “Well, Pocahontas,” Grandmother willow began after Pocahontas had finally finished explaining her dream, “I think you are the arrow, and that spinning means you are indecisive. Eventually, your indecision will end.”

                “So I’ll choose the right path?” Pocahontas questioned.

                “Maybe,” Grandmother Willow answered, “or you’ll die.”

                “I’ll _die_?” Pocahontas was shocked.

                “Hush, now Pocahontas, nothing is set in stone. You can choose your own future. Remember, listen with your heart, then you will understand.” Pocahontas closed her eyes and ponder Grandmother Willow’s words.

                _Listen with your heart,_ Pocahontas instructed herself, _you will understand._

There was silence for what felt like an eternity. Pocahontas wanted to know what her dream meant, but Grandmother Willow must have been off her meds. Listen with your heart? What does that even mean? Pocahontas pressed her left tit against Grandmother Willow’s bark.

                “What the fuck?” Grandmother Willow exclaimed.

                “You told me to listen with my heart!” Pocahontas tried to explain.

                “Your heart, not your boob!”

                “That’s where my heart is!”

                “Oh, Pocahontas, honey…”

                Suddenly, a loud crack echoed through the air. “What was that?” Pocahontas ran out from under Grandmother Willow’s branches. “It sounded like it came from the ocean!”

                “Go to it, Pocahontas!” Grandmother Willow cried out. “Maybe it’s your spinning arrow!”

Pocahontas ran as fast as she could toward the clearing past the forest at the edge of a cliff overlooking the sea. She didn’t even slow down when she heard Grandmother Willow mutter something about “idiot youths” under her breath. She kept running until her legs gave out and she tripped over a vine, nearly tumbling off the edge of the cliff. Lying on the ground, she rolled onto her back and looked up into the air. To her surprise, she didn’t see the same thin, scattered clouds as usual. In their place towered long and tall, square, puffy… tents? They looked almost like deer skins that Pocahontas often hung out to dry every spring. Only, they weren’t deer-sized, they were much larger; the size of whales! Pocahontas wouldn’t have believed what she was seeing had she not been so fucking high. She took in a deep breath of air, closed her eyes, and dreamt of the spinning arrow.


	2. The Newcomers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A virgin land has remained untouched by the greedy hands of European conquerors for millennia, but all of that is about to change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work is fully satire and does not reflect the personal views of the author.

                It had been forty long, strenuous nights and forty-one relatively uneventful days before the explorers had caught sight of land. Perhaps if they hadn’t lynched the navigator for being a Jew, they would have made it to the new world at a quicker pace.

                “No worries lads,” called out a strapping, tall, blonde, handsome, English man, “We’ll have no trouble returning to London, because we’ll have so much gold we can buy a new navigator!”

                “Just make sure it’s not an Irish navigator this time, John!” cried out one of the crew members.

                “Hah!” John laughed, “There won’t be any Irish men where we’re going. We’ll be the first settlement in the West Indies!”

                “What about St. Augustine?” questioned a crew member.

                “And Plymouth,” chimed in another.

                “And all the native settlements that have been there for millennia?” a final voice called out.

                “Those won’t matter anymore,” John explained, “Cause just like a virgin, we’re going to rape the innocence out of this land. That’s why it’ll be called ‘Virginia.’”

                “Sounds like a plan, Captain Smith!”

                “We’re with you, John!”

                “Christopher Columbus will be a troll compared to us!”

                The crew continued to prematurely congratulate John Smith on his heroism until finally they reached shore. John insisted that he be the first man to step on this “virgin” land, but to his shock and horror, there were already about 50 men standing on the beach staring in awe at the masts of the ship. But John noticed these weren’t men like he was used to; they weren’t pale, and they didn’t wear designer London fashion. These men were of a different world. Still human, but so tan and racially diverse.

                “Hello, savages!” John Smith called out with a slight crack in his voice. The men on the beach suddenly began to retreat into the woods behind them until they had disappeared from view. “Aw, oh well. I’ll just hunt them later,” John muttered to himself.

                The crew began to unload the ship when one short, flaming twink approached John. “Excuse me, c- Captain Smith,” the twink muttered, “M- my name is Thomas, a- and I was h-hoping you’d um… sign my dick?”

                “AHAH!” John bellowed, “Anything for my adoring fans!” John pulled out a feather quill and ink and began to scrape into Thomas’ exposed genitals the letters “JS”, but was interrupted by other fans before finishing, leaving only what appeared to be an upper case “T” near Thomas’ pubes.

                “Close enough,” Thomas compromised as he struggled to shimmy his 11-inch cock back into his tightly knit trousers, getting blood all over his hands.

                Several hours passed as the crew stacked barrels and other cargo on the shore of the river. As the sun began to set, many men became frightened as they had not yet set up camp.

                “What will we do for shelter, Captain Smith?” a few men questioned John.

                “Where are all our farming and building supplies?” a couple other men discovered their absence.

                “Ho, Ho!” John laughed loudly as the crew awaited an answer, “We won’t be needing any of those here!” The men exchanged confused glances. “This is simply a search and retrieve mission!”

                “I thought we were supposed to establish the permanent settlement of Jamestown,” One burly man interjected. “How are we supposed to do that with just shovels and pick-axes?”

                “I’m glad you asked!” John answered, picking up spade, “These are for mining!”

                The crew remained silent, awaiting some elaboration.

                “Er- That is to say, we will simply dig up as much gold as we can fit on the boat, bring it back to London, and come back and do the same thing!”

                The crew remained silent for a few moments. Finally, Thomas spoke up. “You know I’m all about getting down and dirty with John! Let’s start shoveling, fellas!” The crew cheered and began to dig and scrape through the earth as day became night. John looked around in amazement as he saw his genius plan finally coming to fruition. He threw his spade on the ground and picked up his hunting rifle.

                “If you men need me,” John began, “too bad! I’m off to hunt natives!”

                “Alright, then, John!”

                “Hurray for genocide!”

                “Don’t go marrying any of them, now!”

John laughed as he left his men defenseless and without a leader. He edged his way through the forest, firing his gun at anything that moved. He had brought with him all the ammunition that was aboard the ship. He felt the adrenaline rush through his veins. How great it felt to be in a land where he could own and fire his weapons of war with no restrictions whatsoever! Finally, John felt freedom coursing through his body. A bald eagle flew overhead, drifting toward a blue corn moon. This land was destined for a new age.

               


End file.
